It is Winter 1966. When five couples find themselves stranded at a remote high class inn by extreme weather conditions, they amuse each other by relating stories of an erotic nature, as well as taking part in all kinds of private and group sexual activities.
Chapter Four : The Host's Tale
Emma and Jake shared a table with Julie and Robert, finding them entertaining company, enjoying an excellent meal with a cool bottle of Pouily Fuisse with the fish, and a smooth vintage beaujolais with the pheasant. Noticing Emma looking at the photographs on the walls, Robert explained that they were studies by Bill.
'We display erotic pictures of explicit sex for our guests, to stimulate discussion and put them into the mood for an uninhibited week-end. And it looks as though Susan's already lost hers '
Susan had broken into a loud, coarse laugh. The others turned to watch as she dipped her hand down the top of her dress, hooked the palm of her left hand under her right breast, and heaved it free from her gown, tipped with a hard, thimble-shaped nipple. 'How about that, then?' she asked.
'Beautiful darling ' Martin cried, 'absolutely superb ' Susan bent over her goblet of red wine, dipping the nipple in the ruby liquid before offering it to Martin.
'Have a taste.'
He promptly leaned over to take the dripping nipple between his lips. To Emma's surprise, the beautiful, sophisticated Delia, sitting opposite Susan, who had been the one to badger her into this display, laughed gaily.
'Here, George What do you think of this, then?' she asked. She hoisted a large milky-white breast from the top of her gown. 'They're far more sumptuous than Susan's, don't you think?'
George peered closely at the proffered breast. 'Stand up the two of you, and let's have a proper look.'
George and Martin helped the ladies out of their chairs. They stood side by side, unhooked the bodices of their gowns, allowing the breasts to swing free. Susan's were long and pointed, with a faint tracery of light blue veins, tipped by pink, pimpled areola around brown thimble-shaped nipples.
Delia, on the other hand, had large heavy breasts, sagging slightly under the weight. They were almost as white as alabaster, with flat, pebble-shaped, stiff nipples surrounded by pale areola. The ladies thrust their chests forward and shoulders back to emphasise the fullness of their breasts.
The men looked with mock concentration at the two ladies, each taking their time, weighing with both hands the breasts of first one, then the other lady. They stood back, whispering seriously to each other. The remaining guests laughed, offering words of flattery to the two ladies.
Martin and George then turned to face the ladies. George was the spokesman. 'We think that both pairs are perfect specimens of female charm. We have concluded that to compare them with each other would be meaningless. So, let's just say that they are different - thank God - but equally delightful.'
Martin nodded his agreement. 'Absolutely '
The whole company applauded, the two ladies kissed each other's cheek before the men assisted them in returning their breasts into their bodices, but not without a some squeezing and shameless fondling of the supple, soft flesh. Julie called for attention. 'We thought it would be rather fun, since we're to be imprisoned together for rather longer than we expected, to have a story-telling week-end. It's not absolutely imperative for you to tell a story, and nobody expects you all to be a Chaucer. This is hardly Canterbury Tales, but if you can join in the spirit of the thing, don't feel embarrassed. But of course, if you do tell a story, it is expected to be on the sexy side. In fact the sexier the better. And if the stories encourage you to act out your fantasies, feel free. We'll enjoy watching, or even participating. But for anyone with objections to a little exhibitionism, we won't mind them slipping off to bed if things get too embarrassing for them.'
There was a general ripple of laughter and comment.
'Embarrassing? Absurd ' said one with a chuckle.
'We're all good friends I hope,' said another.
'Let's go into the lounge where Mary has agreed to take charge of the bar. And to make our theatrical friends feel at home, she has volunteered to dress in a fancy costume. And Anne has decided to join her.'
The guests moved into the lounge. Emma noticed the four exquisite Victorian oil lamps and two silver candelabra illuminating the room, aided by blazing log fires at each end of the room. It looked cosy and warm with the snow piled up in the windows. The chairs and settees were deep and comfortable, liberally supplied with cushions. Robert drew the heavy tapestry curtains across the large window to shut out the wintry weather.
Mary entered from the dining room with a dramatic display of a showgirl, dressed in a white fluffy leotard, with cut-outs displaying the nipples of her lush breasts thrusting through the apertures. Nor did it do anything to hide the cheeks of her pert bottom. The head-dress was in the shape of rabbits' ears, she wore white mesh stockings with a broad red garter on the left leg, and a cheeky bobtail on top of the cleavage of the cheeks of her pert bottom, completed the costume.
Her flowing, wavy hair hung loose over her shoulders giving tantalising glimpses of her nipples as her long tresses swayed. A cheer and a ripple of spirited applause greeted her. Jake's eyes opened wide, staring in appreciation whilst Emma, with her professional eye, examined Mary's figure and bearing with approval.
Anne was dressed as a schoolgirl wearing a white blouse which was at least two sizes too small. It stretched over her bust threatening to burst the buttons, her full unsupported breasts and proud nipples showing through the flimsy material. A pleated navy-blue skirt barely covered her rounded well-buttocks or the fleecy joining of her thighs. She wore black socks with flat heeled shoes.
The two scantily clad ladies were greeted with applause and compliments from the guests. After the noisy welcome, Mary moved between the guests, replenishing cocktails. Emma, who was sitting with Jake in one of the settees, noticed his eyes twinkle with pleasure as Anne, facing away from them, leaned over to pour coffee showing the lush bare cheeks of her bottom displaying a surprisingly hairy cleft.
Jake was reminded of similarly dressed women when working in some of the illicit night-clubs in South Africa. Then, however, the skin of the girls was glowing dark-brown and probably more lustrous. Julie called for attention.
'To start the ball rolling and to break the ice, so to speak, Robert will tell us the first encounter.'
Emma and Jake sank themselves deep in a comfortable sofa. The other guests were scattered in armchairs and other sofas in couples. Emma noticed that the women were not sat with the men she supposed to be their husbands. But there was no sign of jealousy; it was a party atmosphere where everyone was smiling and jolly.
'Our first sexual encounter, then, is when Robert and his first wife, Anji, went to an eighteenth birthday do. It was over ten years ago now. Robert and his first wife lived near Leicester. They were deep into amateur dramatics in those days and Robert had got a reputation for coaching young hopefuls for RADA auditions. One of these hopefuls was Dennis, whose eighteenth birthday it was. Go on Bob, it's your story.'
Robert took up the story.
Well, it's a story in three acts, I suppose. Dennis fancied himself as an actor but hadn't really got the necessary talent. He was pretty, but no charisma. He'd just played the part of a servant in a play with Anji, and they had got on well. Anji always got on well with men.